


Crystalised

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst Dean Winchester, Angst Gabriel, Deliriousness, Exhaustion, Frustration, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, M/M, Nightmares, Obsessive Relationship, POV Second Person, Romance, The xx, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, embracing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:28:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'You want to take it slow, you don't know why but that's all you seem to want to do.' Gabriel's sick and tired of being pushed away. Dean gets it, he just can't help himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crystalised

**Author's Note:**

> This switches back and forth between two points of view. But there's no two in a row, like Gabriel first, then the break (which would be the dots), and Gabriel again. It goes strictly one person and then the next, so as to avoid confusion, and I did make it pretty clear as to who starts first.  
> This is set sometime in the future, Season 8 or onward. I'm still getting over the fact that I wrote this. I keep on throwing myself new challenges but usually put them on the waiting list. This one though, was screaming at me for attention so I just gave in. Hope anyone who happens to read likes.  
> Soundtrack: Inspired by The xx's 'Crystalised'.  
> Rated Mature only for language.

You watch him and don’t think you could love anyone more than you love him. You doubted you’d find it, after all this time, someone you’re damn proud to say you spend your time with and give practically all your attention and devotion to. But you found him, the one, and goddammit if this is all too sappy right now but it’s true. Looking at your hunter, despite all that the two of you have been through, is enough to quell the worry of the future with him you constantly obsess over, enough to make you smile and melt and let everything slow down because going too fast means it’s over too soon and you certainly do not want that. 

He stirs in his sleep, as he so often does and you watch him, intently, eyes fixated on his figure tensing up as it always does around this time of night, at the pinched lines of pain starting in the area between his eyebrows and moving up to his forehead. 

You sigh, it’s all you can do when half the time your mate is in denial of his so obvious pain and can only convince himself to give into your caresses when he’s asleep. You sigh again, more loudly this time, not caring if you accidentally wake him and he looks up at you like nothing’s happening.

Like everything between the two of you is all fine and dandy. In fact that’s all this is, you asking over and over because you fucking care about him so much and he’s always telling you that he’s fine fine fine when he’s so obviously not and that makes you _not_ fine at all. 

It makes you want to scream and rip him out of your life. 

He groans softly, whimpers and you look away, the last thing you should be doing. You need to watch and you’re all too aware of this, need to see exactly what he tolerates because you cannot do enough and instead rack your brain with no doubt futile ways to repair him. 

You can’t sleep anymore, you roll over to be close to him, to be close to his pain and be aware if he calls out for you even though you’d hear it millions of miles away. Sometimes you feel like this is all you can do, lend your touch and your love and apologize because you are not enough. 

Taking it nice and slow, you wrap your arms around him and will the entire world away; the epicenter of his pain. 

...

You want to take it slow, you don’t know why but that’s all you seem to want to do. Maybe it’s all these nightmares you’ve been having of something always going wrong. Of you and him being ripped away from all you want to have and you just don’t think it’s healthy to set yourself up for disappointment. 

The way he looks at you though, that particular hungry look that makes you think he would eat you whole if only it wouldn’t cause your entirely too human form so much physical agony, makes you want to cry and run and scream and break down all at the same time and you don’t know why. You don’t know why one person can make you break and build you up the next second when it all becomes too much, you don’t know why he puts so much effort into this one thing; you and him together. 

Him and you together forever. But it might not last, nothing good does after all. 

So what do you do? You dream. You hold it all inside when you’re near to bursting. You deny and regret and forget that when you are with him everything is simple. Simple because you want him, need him, crave him like vampires crave fucking blood and it’s too real, too much, too tempting, too fast. That’s what you tell yourself. 

And then what do you do? You push him away as much as you can, enough so that maybe this time he won’t throw a temper tantrum, or won’t hit you because the rage has taken him full force. He looks at you like you deserve so little sometimes, nothing, because he knows that you are only human, you make mistakes, you break inside until you think you can break no longer and still you can. So you let him judge and look at you like there’s nothing good left in you. 

Because you know it’s true, you couldn’t know it more. 

There is so much bad in you someone would have to be blind not to see it. You don’t deserve him, you want him so badly yet you are tainted and he is pure. 

Sometimes he breaks you inside and you let him. Happiness was never meant for you, you know it now. 

...

You want to hurt him occasionally, with how little he thinks of himself and much he infuriates you when he pushes you away like you’re nothing to him. You know you’re everything to him, the light that keeps his soul alive and deep down you tell yourself not to be crazy. He doesn’t push you away because he’s sick and tired of your antics and your needs, your human pushes you away because he doesn’t know how not to. 

He makes you back down, which sometimes you don’t even though you really should, because he hates himself. And more than anything you wish you could show him, that loving yourself is a good thing, is a necessary thing, that if you love him than he must love himself. 

You don’t know how to say no to yourself anymore. You don’t want to hurt him, in fact, that’s the last thing in the entire universe you want to do. But he aggravates you, brings you down to his level and destroys you. You hate to say it but he really does make you wonder why you’re with him at all, why you even bother trying when he’s just a suicide waiting to happen no matter what you attempt to do, that he is a half step away from a catatonic state and maybe it would be for the best. 

Hitting him to snap him out of it is what you do now. The slap is hard and his eyes are wide, shocked at your explicit moment of decision but it’s worth it. Maybe it doesn’t wake him up, but it sure as hell wakes you up. 

Maybe it’s time. 

...

He tells you he’s leaving. You don’t know what to say to that, don’t even remember watching him go or anything much after that. You get in your bed and melt into the shitty sheets and don’t get back up for days, not until your stomach screams at you for some food or booze and not even then. There are no words to describe how truly exhausted you feel. Shattered. Dead to the world outside the peeling motel door. 

As far as you’re concerned, it’s over and you have no one but yourself to blame. You drove him away, it’s your fault, your intention, your fuck up. You don’t give yourself a reprieve, today and every day after you will suffer, it’s engraved in your makeup to suffer. 

Maybe you just wanted this all along, this was your end goal, to bring everyone down around you until they’re forced to crumble, like you so magnificently are, or to leave without another word spoken. 

You’re glad he left, glad for him specifically. Of course you miss him, of course you’re a fucking mess without him, but he’s no doubt better off without you. 

You. You and your fucking shit storm of emotions and primarily suppressing them or drowning them in a bottle of whiskey or scotch or whatever is around for you to get a hold of. 

And sure, you cry for a good long while. No freaking surprise there. And yes, you want to call out for him yet you don’t. Your words mean nothing. You are dead to him because you are dead to yourself. The soul within you is shedding light rapidly and he is driven away by it. 

Your words mean nothing. 

...

You don’t know how long it is till he calls out for you. It sounds like he’s choking out your name, its shattered letters lost within a heart wrenching sob, and you hear it loud and clear, listening intently for more because you do nothing else than wile away the days by thinking of him and nothing but him. 

If only he truly knew, just how much you think of him. That even if you wanted to stop, you couldn’t due to the fact that he has stolen every decent piece of you after making sure you were aware you had decent parts and it’s sickening that he needs the convincing now. 

Fucking miserable that your mate dreams of you leaving and think it’ll become reality soon enough. Except the part that it is actually reality now. 

You swallow, hard, because he is all too well known for affecting you on incredibly deep levels. Causes your grace to roil within you violently until he’s in your arms once more. 

It barely sounds human, your name, and it really fucking scares you, enough to allow yourself a brief peek at your mate. Nothing more, you tell yourself. Because to heal him he needs to heal himself. In order to change he needs to know that he needs to change and then you will help, you will help even if it kills you. 

Your mate is in a broken state and all you long for is to repair him but he doesn’t want you. He may have called out your name but he still doesn’t want you enough to make it worthwhile. He says your name probably out of guilt, or maybe isn’t even aware that he says it at all. 

It breaks your heart. You never thought you had one until he came along. 

Until he came along and fucking broke it. 

...

He comes when you call him the third time. Maybe the third time is really the charm. You think about it for longer than you should, it’s not like it fucking matters now. He comes to you. His flawless form pops up out of nowhere and looks at you sadly for one long moment before he’s had enough of that and apparently must move on to walking over to you. You swallow down a sob of relief and wait for him to hold you like it’s the only thing you’ll ever need, the sole thing that could heal you. 

Your archangel does, hold you that is. 

You don’t actually know what could heal you, it would take a miracle. But if anybody could you suspect it would be him. He is certainly dedicated enough. He scoots up so close to you now, close enough to jerk you back to awareness and make you ache with longing, apology and guilt deep down inside. He’s a miracle more than anything else could ever be. 

He’s the miracle. 

The word sorry spills from your lips you don’t know how many times. Sometimes it’s audible, sometimes your throat is so destroyed that you can do no more than form the words with your lips but somehow it doesn’t matter. Somehow he makes it so it doesn’t matter. 

You tell him you’re a failure, that it will always be that way, that you don’t deserve him, etc. You tell him so many things that you can’t even keep track of them all in your delirious state. He tries to get you to stop talking but your head won’t stop reeling and your heart won’t stop screaming. You hold him with your eyes until you can no longer, until his amber ones feel too good and burn too much that you have to close your own just to save yourself. 

He takes care of you, like he always does. It’ll never change. This will never change. He will never give up on you, he will always come when you call, just like he promises when he’s fine with a chick flick moment, and this moment right here is a major one. 

You don’t care though, you don’t care about anything but making yourself better. For him, for yourself as he keeps on reminding you. Even if it drives you into your grave you will try, because you know somehow that you deserve to be loved. 

He doesn’t leave again, maybe he knows better now. 

...

You push him away at first, just to see how he likes it. He growls at you and you laugh, happy because there was no flicker of despair or disappointment on his face. He took it as you being playful, and you were, but you also wanted to show him how you always felt all those other times. 

Something tells you that he knows what you're doing. And he gets it, he comes onto you like a fucking tornado, like nothing happened at all and you have to give in, there’s no option at all. Doesn’t mean you can’t rile him up a little though. 

Sometimes you forget to take it slow, that your mate wants to take it slow. But it’s so fucking hard all the time, what with how much you want him, the things he does to you, the emotions and undeniable love he causes in you. 

He comes onto you and you push him away again. He looks at you and takes a step back. Maybe you have given him the wrong impression. 

“Hey,” you tell him, making sure his focus is entirely on you. “Come here.”

Sometimes it’s hard to make things sound like they’re a demand around him. 

He looks up at you and smiles, you smile back because that’s all you ever really want to do around him. Show him how happy you are, how much you need him, the amount of love you give to him on a daily basis. 

Luckily, he obeys you and throws himself forward into your arms. You take him, shielding him from the world because you no longer need to shield him from himself. He’s been getting a lot better, you know this, working incredibly hard and you’re so fucking proud of him sometimes it makes you even crazier about him. 

You plant a messy line of kisses down his cheek and then across his neck. He’s yours, he can deny it all he wants. But he’s _yours._

And you’re his. His to love, his to claim, his to crystalise so you’ll never leave again. And you’re fine with it, all of it as long as he stays right here in your arms and never doubts it. Never thinks it’s not enough or it’s too much for someone like him. 

So you do it, you do it all in small doses until you can’t take it anymore, until you know he’s perfectly fine with your decision to step things up a notch. And when he looks at you, when he _really_ looks at you... you can’t help but fucking melt like the fire was once more lit within you and is burning you out into sweet oblivion from the inside out, with all the lust and hunger and love you just can no longer hold back from him.

You hold out your needy hands and you envision your prize, all wrapped up in a big delectable bow for you and only you. 

...

You open your eyes and you show him a grin that’ll give even him a run for his money and you take _him._

**FIN**


End file.
